The Fifth Riddle
by xxspade
Summary: Sherlock has moved to America to find Sebastian Moran and remove him so that England can be [safer] once again. While checking out a particularly important case he runs into a freakishly smart teenage fan. Who is this kid and how is he connected to Colonel Moran? [No fluff, plenty of action, season 2 spoilers, after Sherlock's jump, has not yet revealed himself to the world.]


Hey guys! Here is my first Sherlock Holmes Chapter! :D Please feel free to give me constructive criticism, but please remember that I myself am an ordinary person and no where near as smart or intelligent as Sherlock. If you see a place where some of his, or other tv show characters, behavior is unlikely please let me know.

**SPOILERS ALERT!** This is after the last episode of the bbc Sherlock series. That also means that the majority of the beginning of this story is a recap of the ending of the last episode. You don't have to read the whole beginning, but it may be helpful for the rest of the story. The present time in the story starts with the word "KABLAM!" and it goes on from there. I'm almost done with the next KH chapter so I'll be working on the next chapter of this story soon.

**Disclaimer! **I do not own the character Sherlock Holmes or any other character that comes from the books/movies/shows of Sherlock Holmes in general.

**2nd Disclaimer! **The words from the actual show came from Ariane DeVere's rewrite of the Show script so s/he gets credit for it. .

**Claimer! **All original characters and the storyline/plot belongs to me. Any made up places belongs to me and any help with the plot from other people will be credited to them. Currently only my sister has this place.

* * *

"Your wrong you know..."

Molly had been just about to step out of the main lab room to lock up and leave for home to return the next day. She wore her lab coat like always with her pale wood-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep her hair from getting into her work. Within the dark and empty room the voice took on a creepy air. She definitely had not been expecting it and so it scared her out of her wits. She gasped, her body reacting with a jump as she spun to meet the intruder. There leaning against one of the counters was a man. A dark man, one that she knew, it would seem, not very well. Though she had known him for a long while now and had felt both compelled and repulsed by him. She always wondered to herself which emotion would push itself to the top of the heath and win her over.

The shady man watched the wall solemnly as he spoke to her again, clearly bothered by some thought that seemed to be hanging over his head like a hammer ready to strike.

"You _do_ count. You've _always_ counted and I've always trusted you."

His voice calm and collected, but possibly haunted, he turned his face to lock eyes with her as he knew his next words were true enough. Though he hated and despised them with a passion. There would not be a time of pleasantries between the two and possibly never again. It all came down to how the next few hours would put themselves together whether they be good or bad, it all had to be done. He knew his doom and he could feel that calling out to him. There was nothing more that could be done. This was Sherlock Holmes and he could not let something like this just slide away from him.

"But you _were_ right. I'm not okay."

Now Molly looked at him with concern. Sherlock wouldn't talk like that. Sherlock wouldn't ever LOOK at her like that. She could make out the fear in Sherlock's eyes and she knew that something was deeply wrong. Sherlock knew she could see. He wanted her to. He needed her too. He needed her to understand.

"Tell me whats wrong..."

Her voice was soft and slightly afraid. What could the famous Sherlock Holmes have gotten himself into that has made him so sad or broken. What was it that he needed from her so badly that he had to confess that he definitely wasn't ohkay. She became even more concerned as he came closer to her, his eyes on her like that of a cat.

"Molly... I think I'm going to die."

The words seemed to drip out of his mouth and drop to the floor like a boulder and just sit there in between them like an abandoned child. Here was the moment where her emotions chose who would dominate.

"What do you need?"

She asked softly as Sherlock continued to approach her darkly.

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am – everything that _I_ think I am – would you still want to help me?"

What kind of question was that? But she knew he was asking a valid question. Even if he wasn't what he seemed would she still care enough for him to be there when he needed her? She couldn't say anything as she thought. She was in complete shock at what was going on and she couldn't figure it out. Sherlock was going to die? He couldn't. He wouldn't. Sherlock was too smart for that and she had known him long enough to know he could get himself out of just about anything with that brilliant mind of his. What was he asking her to do. He stopped close to her as she considered her answer.

"What do you need?"

She repeated as he again stepped nearer, maybe closer then he had ever stepped before. Something was definitely wrong. He wasn't just playing some cruel joke on her. This was something serious for him to be acting like that and she needed to know what that was.

"You..."

* * *

John switched off the phone, in complete shock at what he had just heard. Then he pocketed it and turned to Sherlock. The detective was sitting in a chair a few away gazing at him as Watson had talked on the phone. Now he spoke, his voice seemed interested in the matter but John knew him well enough to know that he probably wasn't paying too much attention. Especially with the look the man had on his face.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked trying to sound interested. John figured, however, that this news that he had just received would be interesting to him once it was out in the open.

"Paramedics. Mrs Hudson – she's been shot." His voice was frantic and concerned as he tried to make Sherlock understand the current predicament.

"What? How?"

John watched as Sherlock leaned forward in his seat and seemed to be caught by the thread that hung in front of his face. Hurrying to keep his friend's attention John continued to explain. "Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. _Jesus_. She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go." He moved to get his jacket and headed for the door.

"You go. I'm busy."

The uninterested voice from Sherlock forced John to stop dead in his tracks and spin around in horror. "Busy?" He asked, allowing his emotions to boil over his head. What was this guy's problem. Even though John had been Sherlock's partner for awhile he was still surprised by him in every way. There was no way to completely figure out the famous Sherlock Holmes even if you thought you might have.

"Thinking. I need to think."

"You need to ...? Doesn't she mean _anything_ to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her."

"She's my landlady."

"She's dying!"

John's voice had raised to a shout out of utter disbelief. Sherlock Holmes couldn't be that heartless! In fact John knew he wasn't. He had seen him with a heart. Very small and at awkward times that rarely came, sure, but John was sure he had seen it. Why was he acting this way now? John waved a hand at Sherlock gesturing to him like he was a dead rose in the middle of a bright garden.

"You machine!" He growled loudly then stopped himself from going any further and shook his head in dumbfounded amazement. Giving up the argument. This was a constant thing and this was not the only time they had dealt with a similar situation, though not as severe. He was done with it and didn't want to go into the conversation anymore. "Sod this. Sod this. You stay here if you want, on your own." With those words he headed for the labroom door and began to open it when Sherlock replied.

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me."

Watson turned back to him with one last line. "No. _Friends_ protect people." Then he walked out, slamming the door behind him. Sherlock's eyes linger on the door for a few moments before he hears an alerting ding from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and gazes at the words on the LCD screen.

_I'm waiting..._

JM

* * *

"I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it." Moriarty watched his prey with a disappointed look on his face. Nah... Sherlock was a fun distraction while it lasted, but the last part of his devious plan had proved too easy to get away with. His opponent hadn't been 'clever' enough to figure out that the whole plan was a set up from the start.

Staring blankly from where he stood on the roof Sherlock stirred at Moriarty's daunting voice. How could he have not figured it out? How could the scheme have played out so ordinary that an ordinary person could have come up with the same conclusion. But of course it was the perfect way to go. Of course Sherlock would not have come to that conclusion. It was ominous and obvious.

"Do it? Do – do what?" Slipping out of his state of shock, Sherlock gazed into the distance blankly. Of coarse it made sense, but could Sherlock truly admit that? It didn't really matter, he realized, as he wasn't going to be alive much longer. This came to mind as his mind cleared and began to understand. "Yes, of course. My suicide." He said turning to Jim Moriarty, who had been circling around him.

"'Genius detective proved to be a fraud.' I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales." Moriarty felt truly satisfied as he watched Sherlock seemed to flail to grasp anything that was solid enough to hold on to, like a younger brother jumping for a piece of candy that the older brother held just above his own reach. With slow, shallow breaths Sherlock walked over to the edge of the building and peered over the wall for a glance. Moriarty followed just behind him and looks over with a smug expression. "And pretty Grimm ones too." He commented triumphantly.

* * *

"Hello?" John said speaking into his cell that he had just pulled out while hurrying to the Hospital. He was close to the door when the voice spoke and his heart caught at the strange tone of it.

"John..."

"Hey Sherlock, are you okay?" He asked as he began to head toward the hospital door.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now."

The way the detective's voice sounded gave Watson the shivers and he decided that going into the Hospital would be the best answer even though Sherlock had told him not to. Watson had disobeyed Sherlock before, and considering the circumstances it seemed like the best idea at the time. "No, I'm coming in." But Sherlock's desperate tone stopped him in his tracks.

"Just do as I ask. Please."

Sherlock just said please. Watson stopped what he was doing and turned around to find his friend. Not knowing what Sherlock had in mind. He began to look around, but could not locate Sherlock anywhere. Though if Sherlock had just said please, there must be something terribly wrong. Sherlock never said please. "Where?" He asked a bit bewildered at the situation.

* * *

"Your friends will die if you don't." Why was crushing this man's dreams so fun? The expressions themselves gave him happiness, although this whole deal was starting to leave him completely void and empty. And dull. It was proving to be too easy and that within itself was disappointing to a intellectual of his IQ. The fear that clearly gripped the consultant was obvious now and was overwhelming. Moriarty had finally hit the core of the situation. The part that would bring Sherlock Holmes to his knees. The only people that Sherlock could ever care for. Dead.

"John..."

"Not just John..." Moriarty said, adding with a gleeful whisper. "Everyone."

"Mrs. Hudson..."

"Everyone..." Moriarty said softly with a bright smile on his face. Just waiting for the last name to come out.

"Lestrade..."

Finally, "Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. There's no stopping them now." Jim waited after that. Giving a second for his rival to think. They stood at a stand still with Sherlock holding Moriarty over the edge of the building, ready to send him flying off. Normally this would be a problem for the criminal master mind, but considering the situation Jim was sure that he would survive. Holmes cared too much for his precious friends. Then Sherlock, in rage, pulled Moriarty to safety and held on to him, just in case. Jim quickly composed himself and gazed at Sherlock straight in the face and said, "Unless my people see you jump."

The fear was imminent and complete. He would have to die and there was no way out of it. Breathing heavily in horror Sherlock let go of his grasp on Moriarty. The last thing he could keep his fingertips on. There was no more control for Sherlock. He had lost everything. Everything. And Moriarty loved it. Seeing there was a need for one more little push Moriarty grinned and began to speak once more.

"You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die ... unless ..."

Sherlock considered the last sentence for a moment and then finished it, knowing quite well there was no other answer to the question. "... unless I kill myself – complete your story."

Now that was the Sherlock he knew. A crushed version of him anyway. Moriarty bobbed his head with a triumphant snicker on his lips as he came up to stand just behind Sherlock who was peering out over the drop to see the street floor. "You've gotta admit that's sexier." He said shrugging happily.

"And I die in disgrace."

* * *

"I'm a fake."

"Sherlock..." John couldn't believe what he was hearing. What was this? First off Sherlock was no lier. Sherlock's whole world was surrounded by facts and truths. Watson knew he couldn't be telling the truth. He had seen the truth, known the truth. This couldn't be it. John knew something was wrong. He knew exactly what was going on inside Sherlock's mind. He didn't need Sherlock to notice a man standing on top of a tall building looking down on the world with his voice and body and mind about to shatter into pieces. Whatever had happened up on the roof was no small encounter. John had a good idea what it was, but had no idea of the details of the conversation.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

Sherlock was crying. John could tell by how shaky his voice was. Why... No. Why... He had to do something to stop this from happening. He had to do something to keep his best friend from jumping off the top of a building to his death. "Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the _first time we met_, you knew all about my sister, right?" How could there be anymore evidence then that? Sherlock couldn't possibly counter evidence.

"Nobody could be that clever." Sherlock said doubtfully.

John replied desperately, trying to keep Sherlock talking for as long as possible. "You could."

John could hear Sherlock's laugh in his ear through the phone and knew there was absolutely nothing he could do. Sherlock was going to come up with something to shoot him back and John couldn't do anything else to counter him back.

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Just a magic trick."

Magic trick? Sherlock didn't believe in Magic! No! Sherlock wouldn't have researched him either. Sherlock wasn't like that... No. Watson wasn't believing any of this for it couldn't possibly be true. What did Moriarty say that made the man so unmovable? What had he done.

"No. All right, stop it now." He said closing his eyes and shaking his head vigorously then began to walk towards the hospital. He was going to go up there and stop his friend himself if he had to. He was going keep him from jumping.

"No, stay _exactly_ where you are. Don't move." Sherlock's voice was so desperate that Watson had to stop in his tracks and turn to look up at him. Something was wrong. Sherlock must be being blackmailed. That would be the only reason he would jump. Right? Right? There could be no other solution. Unless Moriarty had beaten him. Would Sherlock be doing it out of embarrassment or sense of failure? Would he let that take him down? He backed up slowly as he debated in his head and held up his hand to keep Sherlock from jumping at that moment.

"Alright." He said slowly. He could hear his friend's rapid breathing now and knew he was afraid. Sherlock was being blackmailed. There could be no way Sherlock would jump unless there was something serious going on. No no no no! He watched as Sherlock unconciously mirrored his own action by reaching out his hand to Watson in a child-like fear. There was the final proof. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it, but he still had to try.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" His frantic tone left John heartbroken. No, this couldn't be happening.

"Do, what?"

* * *

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to." Now unnerved, but slightly relieved, Moriarty watched as Sherlock's hope returned to him and he began to get a little bit cocky over something he discovered. Was there a code word to stop the assassins from shooting without Sherlock's Suicide?

Sherlock was now in Moriarty's face, a little too close for comfort, but Jim didn't worry about it too much. Then Sherlock spoke determinedly. "Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you – prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you."

Moriarty couldn't help but shaking his head at the disappointing words that were just spoken. Lies of course. Just to save his own breath. No one wants to die after all. Not a very fun part of life. But it is a part of life. "Naah. You _talk_ big. Naah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary – you're on the side of the angels."

They gazed at each other intensely for a moment before Sherlock responded. This time his voice low and full of cruel power. "Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

Cut deep into the heart that did.

There was a long silence as each nemesis watched each other, trying to determine everything about their opponent. Finally satisfied Moriarty spoke first. "No... You're not."

He pulled away from Sherlock slowly with his eyes closed and his heart pounding. What was this? Sherlock was showing potential now? Sherlock was proving to be who has said he's been? Proving to be Moriarty himself? Then Jim smiled and he opened his eyes, now utterly lost to the world with no way of returning. "I see, you're not ordinary. No. You're me." Then he laughed, a crazy laugh. His life was finally complete. There would be no time better then this time. There would be no more Sherlock Holmes to play with. No more distractions that would keep hold of him any longer. No. This was his end as well as it was Sherlock's. They would go down together.

"You're me!" He repeated in a shrill high-pitched voice that would make any grown man with a less IQ then his wince. "Thank you!" He motioned to hug his rival but stopped short and held out his hand for a shake instead. "Sherlock Holmes." He said lightly. He watched, intensely, as Sherlock took a moment to glance at his hand in wonder at the action, trying to debate about what was actually happening. Then the tall man took Moriarty's cold hand and shook it slowly. "Thank you. Bless you." He said, almost sadly. Then he looked down at the ground with a shaky breath. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out."

There was a short pause before Moriarty finally said, "Good luck with that."

Then, as if time itself had stopped, Moriarty lifted his eyes to his opponent and smiled. A smile that no man in his right mind would ever forget. One that could give children nightmare when they slept at night. Using Sherlock's hand he pulled the man closer to himself as he pulled out his own gun. Thinking that Jim was aiming it at him, Sherlock pulled away with a cry out that rang disappeared into the sky. Then in one fowl movement Moriarty lifted the gun to his own mouth and pulled the trigger, shooting himself through his skull. It was instant and his world went black even before the ringing in his ears began to take effect. Dead before he was blown off his own two feet. Never saw the ground.

* * *

"This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?"

John shook his head, quickly taking the phone away from his ear and then placing it back. He knew exactly what was going on, but of course didn't want to admit it. Didn't want it to become reality. "Leave a note when?" He asked, his whole demeanor, betraying everything.

"Goodbye, John."

"No. Don't" John choked and he could feel his heart shattering as he watched Sherlock toss the phone behind him on the roof floor and then spread out his hands as if he believed he could jump off and fly.

"No. _SHERLOCK!"_

John's scream was in vain, for Sherlock leaned forward and let himself fly. But people don't fly. John watched, horrified, as Sherlock fell, his mind instantly clouded as he watched his best friend die.

* * *

KABLAM!

When he opened his eyes, Sherlock found himself laying on the ground next to his bed. His body soar and sweaty with heat radiating off him, even though the room was freezing cold. His breathing was irregular with long gasps that hurt to take from a dry throat and stiff lungs. His mind and body were exhausted, despite his 5 hour sleep that night. Post-traumatic-stress. Sherlock Holmes had post-traumatic-stress. Ridiculous. After a moment of studying himself for serious injuries, Sherlock came to the conclusion that besides his body being soar, his head was pounding like a hammer. Then he placed the palm of his hands onto the floor and pushed himself up to sit on his bed to fully recover from the experience. As he did so he thought back on his nightmare and finished it. The thought of seeing Watson when he stood at Sherlock's gave came and overwhelmed his mind.

* * *

"Um ... mmm. You ... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm ... there were times I didn't even think you were _human_, but let me tell you this: you were the best man, and the most human ... human being that I've ever known and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, and so ... There."

John struggled to keep his composure as he spoke, the glanced over his shoulder at where Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him to return. Then he turned back to Sherlock's grave and stepped over to it, placing his hands on the top of it. "I was _so_ alone, and I owe you so much."

There was a pause before Watson pulled himself together and pulled away from the headstone, attempting to move on from the scene. "Okay." He said softly to finish it, but couldn't help turning back around to point out one more thing. "No, please, there's just one more thing, mate, one more thing: one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't... be... dead. Would you do...? Just for me, just stop it. Stop this." He said waving his hand toward the grave as if Sherlock could see and hear him. Then he cried. He lifted his hands to his face to hide the tears that betrayed his feelings. There was nothing left. Nothing left of Sherlock Holmes. Even his reputation was destroyed.

Finally there was nothing else to do, but wipe away his own tears and leave the scene. As a soldier, to give respect to his fallen friend, Watson stiffened and raised his thumb to rest on his forehead just above his eyes. With one swift movement, Watson saluted the grave solemnly and turned around to walk away, this time, without looking back.

* * *

Little did Watson know, that Sherlock had survived the fall, with Molly's help. Little did Watson know, that Sherlock had been watching him the whole time. Sherlock knew what would happen and he prepared for it. Sherlock knew it was possible that Moriarty wanted him dead. So he himself chose the place to meet. Just above the hospital. Just above Molly's lab. Sherlock was not really dead. No, of course he had a plan all a long, just incase. But it didn't make the jump any more easier. In fact, it made the jump harder.

With closed eyes, Sherlock sat on the hotel bed silently as he thought about that day. Crappy day the whole thing, but Sherlock needed to stop dwelling on it. The whole scenario was not only messing with his concentration, but also his unconscious mind, and he was conscious about that indeed. He noticed, and it was quite irritating. If he dwelled on it though, it might ruin everything about himself that he strived for so long to achieve. Especially with his emotions.

It has been six months since that day and Sherlock had been loosing even more sleep then usual over everything that had happened. He needed to deal with it today. And what better way to deal with pain than to solve a particularly difficult murder case. After what seemed like five minutes Sherlock grabbed the TV remote and aimed it at the TV pressing the on the power button. The default channel was abc news. He let the channel play as he stood up and began to get ready, listening to everything the news anchorman was talking about. Nothing interesting popped up before he finished, but as he headed for his new computer he heard the "Important News" song play as the speaker talked urgently.

"This just in. Serial killer on the loose in New York, seemingly after random victims. A child of one of the victims is missing and is definitely connected to the case. Contact NYPD if you have any information and keep your doors locked at night."

Serial killer? Missing child? Not his usual, but he needed SOMETHING to distract his superior mind. He watched as there was a picture of a crime scene that was displayed real quickly. No body, which meant it had already been taken, but a picture of a mother, father, and daughter were shown on the screen above the crime scene. The father was dead, the mother in Las Vegas, trying to hide from her husband no doubt, and the daughter was missing. The crime scene was located at the edge of Sheep meadow within central park. There were no details on how the man died, but it was a good place to start. Already, Sherlock had a few thoughts of what happened to him within his own mind, but those he refused to dwell on until he got to the actual crime scene.

Moving swiftly, Sherlock grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. Pretending to be a small time detective in America was the last thing Sherlock wanted. He absolutely hated it. But he needed the time to blend in for a bit until he could find a way to get back into England and restore his former consulting life. Though Moriarty was dead he still needed to find Sebastian Moran. He had heard that one of them had arrived in America only a month ago. So he followed after him and disguised himself a small detective. He was searching for any sign of the man, though he wasn't too curtain if he was still in New York. He had a contact here of course who was keeping an eye on him, but he wasn't able to be on constant watch. There was absolutely no way with his police job. This was also Sherlock's new support. As long as Sherlock did stupid little cases that had no importance and no body had the time to do. Sometimes he worked with Missing Persons, but he stayed away from more of the bigger cases where he could possibly be recognized. The only problem with this was his extreme need for distraction. His mind was way too intelligent for him to just drop out of the big cases all together. If he found a bigger case that he found interest in, he would often sneak around, though he hated doing it.

His life had become a boring, yet difficult road that never seemed to end. Things in England would only calm down when it was completely safe from Moran. Whom he himself had dubbed to be the second most dangerous man in the world just under Moriarty, who was now dead. It was now his job to get rid of him. What he was doing in America was what Sherlock needed to find out.

Time to see if he was right with his deductions about this new case.

* * *

End of the first chapter!

**Keep In Mind! **Sherlock Holmes has pretended to DIE and he also witnessed Moriarty, who had become a big part of his life even though he met him a couple times, shoot himself. There are going to be some behaviors about Sherlock that are different. Not to mention he is Hiding from most of the world. If you have any better ideas, please let me know.

If you find any spelling/grammar issues please let me know in pm and I'll fix it as soon as possible.


End file.
